nous étions les enfants
by EmyBlossom93
Summary: Les Mis AU - Eponine is younger then Gavroche. - 5 part drabble set.


1.

The inn at Montfermeil had been the only home that Gavroche and Eponine had ever known. At first it had been just Gavroche's for two years before Eponine had joined. Now, neither could remember a time when they hadn't had the other. Since then, they had grown up and their quality of living had gone down.

Their parents had always been greedy — this was a fact that Gavroche had always known and Eponine had always ignored. As the years had past, half a decade, these ways had eventually caught up with them and they'd been forced to sell their inn and make their way to Paris.

Only, once they'd arrived in Paris, it hadn't been like they'd thought it would. And within a week, Gavroche had found himself on the street. Eponine had been allowed to stay, it was obvious their parents had always favored the daughter over the son. Not that Gavroche particularly cared, he had always been stronger than the younger Thenardier, had always been able to take their parents harshness where Eponine had longed for their acceptance.

But they were siblings and they loved each other far more than they had ever loved their parents — or their parents, them. So, within a week of him being on the streets, Eponine was sneaking him what little food she could.

It wasn't long after that that Gavroche had met both his momes (two younger orphans) and Les Amis. But, despite these new friends, he still made sure to visit Eponine as often as possible — and whenever the Thenardier's (he'd long since disowned them) were busy.

About two months after he'd been abandoned, the bruises had started. At first, it was just along Eponine's arms but eventually spread to other places until it got to the point where one day Gavroche didn't know where one bruise ended and another began.

Eponine denied needing any help, saying it was only because Mama and Papa were stressed due to the new baby. She had never asked for help, only offering Gavroche what little food she could (which was decreasing every time.)

And so, Gavroche was surprised when one day he found Eponine wandering the street, lost, alone, and bruised. When he asked what she was doing, Eponine had shrugged and told him that Mama and Papa had said they couldn't afford so many mouths to feed and thus Eponine had to leave.

That night, Eponine had been shown the Elephant, had met Gavroche's two little momes, and had spent her first night outside of a warm room.

2.

Gavroche had met the group of friends first, beginning with the resident drunkard. It was a few months later when Eponine had finally met the group, Les Amis. She hadn't originally meant to ever meet them, always preferring to hide in the shadows rather than step into the light, where these boys seemed to reside. Although, their light seemed to be the blonde man in the center, who was speaking of places and people and things the young gamine knew nothing about.

She'd only entered the Cafe Musaid to find her older brother and to get out of the rain. He was easy enough to find, sitting on a stool in between a man in green and another who wore a dark blue vest. She made her way over quickly and quietly before reaching up and tugging on his leg.

"Gavroche," She called.

He looked down at her, "'Ponine! What are you doing here? Where are the momes?"

"They're around somewhere," She answered with a shrugged. They would go and do what they wanted, taking after Gavroche in that respect.

Gavroche nodded as if to say something, but before he could, the man in blue looked down at her, "Who is this little girl?"

Gavroche smiled at him, "This is my little sister, Eponine, Eponine, this is Feuilly — he's Polish!"

"What's a Polish?" Eponine asked, looking up at him to see if there was anything wrong that she could see.

This caused all three boys to laugh at her, which she took as a personal affront, "What" She complained.

"Come here, little one," Feuilly said and lifted her up, "Let me order you a little cake and tell you all about Poland, though I myself am not Polish."

Eponine looked over at her brother who gave her a nod, she smiled at him before turning back to Feuilly to hear more about this Poland.

3.

"So, your name is Marius?" Gavroche looked at the wide-eyed, freckled boy dubiously. He had no doubt he could take the man in a fight (he'd been watching Bahorel as of recent) if it came down to it — not that it probably would.

"Marius Pontmercy," He nodded, taking a light sip of the drink Grantaire had set in front of him and grimaced, "And I hear you are Gavroche — fearless ruler of the streets of St. Michel."

Gavroche smiled, he was a flatterer, "You've heard correct," he almost lost himself when Marius took another sip and made another grimace.

"M'sieur Marius," Eponine chuckled, "Are you alright with this drink? If you don't like it, I can get you another."

"That would be lovely, if you wouldn't mind, Eponine.'

"Anything for you M'sieur Marius," She said, bringing him something that wasn't so strong, "Can I have the rest of yours?"

"I don't see why not," Marius said, sliding the drink towards her, "Though I don't think it's a very proper for a young lady such as yourself."

"I'm no lady," Eponine said, chugging the rest of the drink down.

"All little girls are ladies if given the chance," Marius protested.  
"Well, I'm never gonna get that chance, so i'm not not lady, M'sieur. I'm not pretty enough for it, neither."

"I think you're beautiful," He touched the top of his finger to her nose, "And you would make a beautiful lady."

Eponine felt her cheeks heat up as she looked at the freckled youth "Do you really mean that?"

"Sure do, mme Eponine," He smiled at her.

"If you two are done, I'd like to start the meeting, since that is why we are all here." Enjolras called to them, his blue eyes burning into them.

"Oh hush, we was just talking," Eponine protested, wanting to defend Marius against their leader.

This cause Grantaire to laugh in his corner, "I do believe that is the first I've ever heard someone tell Apollo to not talk. Eponine, mon ami, I owe you a drink."

This caused Eponine to smile brightly as the rest of the Amis laughed, only to dim down at said Apollo's disapproving look. If looks could kill, Enjolras would have no trouble taking down the entire monarchy with that look.

Feuilly came over from where he'd been sitting next to Bahorel, and picked her up off the seat.

"C'mon, 'Ponine, let's try to keep you out of trouble."

Eponine nodded, but kept her eye on Marius as she was carried over, kept her eye on him through the speech. Because when she looked at him her heart felt a little bit lighter.

4.

The streets were filled with people as the coffin was led down it. Beside her, Gavroche held a tight grip on her hand, but his eyes were glued to their golden haired leader.

"Eponine, remember, stay out from under people's feet. I don't need you getting crushed or som'thing," He warned her, "And make sure you get behind the barricade before it gets built all the way up. I'll find you there."

Her only response was a nod of her head and her squeezing his palm a little bit tighter. She'd been over this before; first, with Enjolras when he told everyone of the plan, then with Feuilly and Grantaire, and finally with Gavroche, here. They had made her swear to stay out of any trouble, made her promise not to provoke any soldiers as she was apt to do.

Suddenly there was a flutter of movement to her left where Enjolras and Combeferre had been standing moments ago, only to see them now climbing their way up on top of the coffin, red flags waving streaks of red across the blue sky. Beside her Grantaire took off as people joined the procession with shouts of "Viva La France" and "Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité."

She immediately ran to the other side of the road, weaving in and out of people's legs, until she'd joined the other side where she knew Feuilly and Bahorel were both stationed, keeping an eye out for any soldiers that tried to get close to their fearless leader.

When she reached them, Bahorel was waving a gun in the air in place of the flag most of the other ones would have.

"VIVA LA FRANCE!" Eponine yelled, running along beside the two men.

"Eponine! Glad you could make it!" Bahorel called down to her, causing Feuilly to take notice. He smiled down before lifting her up on his shoulders where she would be safe from the other protesters.

The procession eventually rounded the corner and was met by a long row of army soldiers, guns pointed at them.

"Feuilly …" Eponine whispered, eyeing down the line of men. Beside them, Bahorel grabbed her off of his shoulders and sat her on the edge of the platform where the coffin was, where she was half hidden behind the crown of people.

"Stay here, this'll take you straight to the barricade, 'Ponine," Feuilly told her and she nodded to him, still focused on the soldiers.

Suddenly there was a ruckus and a women in the front lines dropped as a gunshot rang out. Next thing she knew, Combeferre was running past them with a fierce expression on his face Eponine had never seen before as he screamed out, "Murderer!"

After this moment, everything seemed a bit of a haze to her as people fell, on both sides, and there were gunshots and sword swings and somewhere in the haze she heard Enjolras screaming "To the Barricade!"

And with that, the procession made it way quickly to outside the cafe where people were already piling up furniture. To one side, Courfeyrac was calling for people to throw down the furniture while to the other she could see Grantaire sitting against the wall of the cafe, holding a green bottle to his lips as he silently observed the wild chaos, his eyes occasionally flickering to his golden haired Apollo.

Eponine quickly found Gavroche amidst the chaos, sending him a nod before running off and helping wherever she could, piling up small chairs.

"Eponine, go help Bahorel for the moment," Combeferre called, nodding his towards the cafe.

She nodded towards the man, warily eyeing the splotch of blood running up his grey sleeve. This image of the man before him, with his two pistols and fierce face was completely unlike the man she was used to seeing with his soft eyes behind round glasses. The man always whose books had been replaced guns.

"Go on, 'Ponine," His voice went a shade softer as he tapped the brim of her hat, "We'll need all the help we can get right now."

She nodded to him and took off into the cafe, running up to where the fighter and the frazzled doctor stood, melting silver into ammunition.

"What can I do to help?" She asked, "'Ferre sent me in here to help you."

Bahorel looked down at her, "Go on and collect as much silver as you can. Then I'll show you how to make a bullet."

Eponine smiled up at him and quickly ran off to try and find some materials.

5.

"Is everyone okay?" Enjolras called from his perch on the barricade, rifle in hand as he gazed across the inhabitants of the barricade. Eponine looked around quickly, trying to take a mental tally of who she could see.

Feuilly was next to Bahorel, of course, reloading ammunition into several weapons. Marius was sitting next to the barricade, someone had taken the torch and barrel away from him. Gavroche was, of course, crouched next to Grantaire, who was chugging down the remnants of whatever alcohol he'd chosen today. She looked through the rest of the Amis: Joly and Bossuet with Musichetta fussing over them, Combeferre was next to their leader, discussing something quietly, Courferyac was off to the side, wrapping a bandage around his leg where a bayonet had nicked him. But someone was missing.

"Where's Jehan?" Courferyac called out, looking around the barricade, "Is he alright?" He turned to Combeferre and Enjolras, who both held grim expressions.

"Where is he?" He called out but before they could answer, a voice rang out from across the street, recognizable even as distorted as it was with pain.

"Vive la France!" He screamed.

"Jehan!" Courfeyrac answered, as if yelling his name would somehow make the poet materialize before him. He quickly scaled to the top of the barricade and would have probably vaulted over had it not been for Combeferre grabbing ahold of him, "Jehan!" He called again, his voice twisting this time.

"Long live the revolution!" The voice screamed out, before a single shot rang out across the street, bouncing off the walls of the building. There was a deep silence from both sides.

"Jehan!" Courfeyrac called out, "Jehan!" He repeated once more, waiting to hear a response only to get none.

"He's gone," Enjolras answered to no one, "He's gone." His voice was steady, although he looked off to the side, meeting no one's eyes.

"No," Courfeyrac called out, "He can't … —not, not like that. Not alone. Not him. He can't —that's not the way he should have …" He faded off at the end, eyes peering over the edge of the barricade.

Eponine took in a deep breath, the face of the poet clear in her mind. The last time she'd spoken with him, he'd been telling her some poem about rain and flowers. And now he was gone.

Finally, Enjolras turned to look at the remaining revolutionaries, "Let's not waste anymore lives. The women should leave, along with anyone else who wishes to." Slowly, a few people stood and walked away, a solemn exodus.

"Eponine, you should leave to. Go with Musichetta." Feuilly looked over at her from his spot.

She shook her head, "No. I can't leave you guys."

"You have to, it's not safe for you."

"Gavroche gets to stay." She pointed out, "Why can't I?"

"Because, 'Ponine …" Feuilly trailed off, unsure of how to answer this question. He had no doubt Gavroche knew what he was getting into. That boy was sharp as a tack and was beyond his years. Eponine however, while sharing her brothers brains, was far more naive than her counterpart.

"No. I'm not going." She called out and ran to the barricade, quickly slipping between the chairs and tables until she was in a small alcove where none of the others could reach her.

Feuilly sighed and stood up, walking over to her as Gavroche stood and joined him. The older man looked down at her and into the small hiding spot, "Eponine, please." He pleaded.

Eponine looked around at the faces, bouncing from Enjolras' serious face, blue eyes burning as they always had, to Courfeyrac whose eyes still brimmed from the loss of Jehan, until finally landing on Marius. His freckled face was downcast, holding onto the letter she'd delivered to him before the revolution had begun. She'd been running letters back and forth between him and his precious Cosette (she called her the Lark when Marius wasn't around) for weeks now, much to many of the Amis' disgruntlement. But how could she not help her precious Marius? He had seemed so low and sad since his argument with his grandfather and here was this Lark who was able to cheer him up where even she, his little 'Ponine, could not.

And now, they were asking her to leave them. All of them. The only friends she'd really ever known. To leave Gavroche, the only remaining brother she had left.

"I—I can't," She whispered, looking up at Feuilly who seemed to beg her to go with Musichetta, "G-Gavroche, I can't leave you here. You're my only family."

"Ninny," He called to her, using a name she hadn't heard since Montfermeil, "You'll always have me. I swear. But now you need to go with her so that somebody can go and make sure the momes are okay. Can you do that for me? Look after the momes until I can get back to you guys, alright?"

Eponine looked out from her perch within the barricade, staring her older brother in the eye. Until finally, finally, she crept out from her burrow and stood on the edge of what was once a table. Lunging forward she hugged her brother once more, gripping him tightly before someone had to pull her off of him. She twisted around to find herself face to face with Feuilly and suddenly she questioned whether or not she stood have be a bit more stubborn and perhaps stay.

Feuilly carried her over to Musichetta, "Be safe now, 'Ponine." He whispered to her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before handing her over to Musichetta.

"I'll see you later," She told him, resting her head on Musichetta's shoulder, "Later."

On the other side of the barricade there were some shouts as the troops began to regroup.

"We better go," Musichetta said and she looked over at where Joly and Bossuet were sitting together, sharing one last drink. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it into a soft, sad smile. And with one last look at the last barricade, the two girls left the camp, setting out to Musichetta's little apartment. Eponine turned to look back, her eyes setting on Gavroche's own blue ones and she didn't look away until they rounded the corner.


End file.
